
Most CEOs are playing AI like a defense game. Automate the reports. Trim the headcount. Speed up the support queue. Squeeze a few more points of margin out of the existing business. Check the AI box. Move on.

Most CEOs are playing AI like a defense game. Automate the reports. Trim the headcount. Speed up the support queue. Squeeze a few more points of margin out of the existing business. Check the AI box. Move on.

AI tools like Lovable, Bolt, Vercel, and Replit have done something remarkable: they’ve made software creation nearly frictionless. A founder with an idea and no engineering background can have a working app in twenty minutes. A competitor can replicate your core feature set by Friday afternoon.
Every industry has a playbook. Proven methods, validated approaches, and accumulated wisdom passed down through conferences, business schools, and consulting decks. We call them best practices, and for good reason. They work. They reduce risk. They help organizations avoid costly mistakes.
There’s just one problem: they also guarantee you’ll never pull ahead.
Best practices are backward-looking by design. Distilled from what already worked, optimized for reliability, built to produce predictable outcomes. That’s valuable when you’re managing operational risk. It’s a strategic liability when you’re trying to compete.
Here’s what nobody says out loud: if your competitors have access to the same best practices, and they do, following those practices doesn’t give you an edge. It gives you parity. You execute well, stay in the game, and converge toward the same outcomes as every other serious player in your industry.
The practices designed to protect your business have quietly become its ceiling.
This is how entire industries sleepwalk into commoditization. Every player runs the same playbook, makes the same moves, then wonders why differentiation feels impossible. The answer isn’t that differentiation has become harder. It’s that everyone is optimized for the same thing. When you copy the industry’s logic, you inherit the industry’s limits.
Ray Davis, president and CEO of Umpqua Holdings, decided not to do that. And, he has a very unique way to express his competitor’s best practices: CRAP, as in competitor rules and practices.
He understood that best practices are borrowed limits, and Umpqua rewrote the rules of banking and defied commoditization.
First principles thinking starts from a completely different place. Instead of asking “what works?” it asks “what’s actually true?”
It means stripping a problem to its foundations, discarding inherited assumptions, ignoring how things are supposed to work, and rebuilding your reasoning from scratch. The difference between asking “how do leading companies approach customer retention?” and asking “why do customers actually leave, and what would we build if we had zero preconceptions about how retention works?”
The first question lands you in industry benchmarks and incremental improvements. You get a refined version of what already exists. The second opens solution spaces your competitors aren’t looking at, because they’re all reasoning from the same inherited playbook, asking the same first question, and arriving at the same range of answers.
This is where genuine competitive asymmetry lives. Not in executing the playbook better than everyone else. In questioning whether the playbook is even solving the right problem.
Watch what happens in a mature industry as best practices spread. Early adopters develop them and gain a real advantage. Then consultants package them. Business schools teach them. LinkedIn spreads them. Within a few years, every serious competitor has absorbed them, and the advantage has evaporated. The practice becomes table stakes.
This cycle now plays out faster than ever. Information moves at speed. Methodologies get documented, shared, and replicated in months, not years. What gave your competitor an edge eighteen months ago is probably being implemented across your industry today.
The half-life of advantage derived from best practices keeps shrinking. And yet, most organizations respond by doubling down, seeking newer, better practices to adopt rather than questioning the fundamental logic of their strategy. They’re trying to solve a differentiation problem with a tool that produces convergence. It doesn’t work. It can’t work.
First principles thinking short-circuits this cycle. When you reason from foundational truths rather than inherited methods, you arrive at answers that aren’t in the shared playbook, because you didn’t use the shared playbook to find them. That’s not just differentiation. It’s a structural advantage that’s genuinely difficult to copy, because competitors can’t replicate your conclusion without first replicating your entire reasoning process. By the time they get there, you’ve moved again.
Here’s how to tell which mode your organization is actually operating in. When a significant strategic decision lands on the table, notice the first question that surfaces in the room.
If it’s “what do leading companies do in this situation?” you’re in best practices mode. You’ve already accepted someone else’s frame of what’s possible. You’re searching for the most refined version of an existing answer, which means the best outcome available to you is a slightly better version of what already exists.
If it’s “what’s actually true about this situation, and what would we build from scratch if we ignored everything that came before?” you’re in first principles mode. The possibility space is still open.
Be honest about which question your team reaches for first. Most organizations, under pressure, default to the first. It feels safer. It’s defensible. You can point to precedent. But that reflex, reaching for the playbook under pressure, is precisely how organizations cap their own upside without ever making an explicit decision to do so.
Competitive strategy is about being different in ways that matter. That definition has no room for “we follow the same practices as everyone else, just more rigorously.”
The organizations that consistently create distance from their competitors share one trait: they’re willing to question assumptions their industry treats as settled. Not to be contrarian. Not to take risks for its own sake. But because that’s where the leverage actually is, in the gap between what the industry assumes is fixed and what’s actually true.
Best practices will tell you how to run the race everyone else is running. First principles thinking asks whether you should be running a different race entirely.
That question is uncomfortable. It means discarding the safety net of precedent and sitting with genuine uncertainty. It means your strategy can’t be defended by pointing at what competitors do. But it’s the only question that opens outcomes your competitors can’t predict, model, or replicate in time to matter.
Play the existing game well enough, and you’ll survive. Question the game itself, and you create the kind of distance that doesn’t close.
Most organizations never make an explicit decision to cap their upside. They just keep asking the wrong first question and call it due diligence.
Focus isn’t what you think it is. It’s not concentration. It’s not discipline. It’s not trying harder in a distracted world. Focus is a decision. And most people never make it. They think focus is about summoning willpower or forcing themselves to pay attention. It isn’t.
I was listening to a podcast interview with Michael Dell, founder of Dell Technologies, when this landed:
“I stood up and told the company that 5 years from now we will have a new competitor and that new competitor is going to be in every business that we are in and they’re going to be faster, more efficient, and more capable. And they’re going to put us out of business, and the only way that we’re going to prevent that is by becoming that company. It’s gut-wrenching stuff to reinvent and reimagine your business, but if you don’t do it, you go out of business.” — Michael Dell
That quote captures the most uncomfortable truth in business: your biggest threat isn’t a competitor you can see; it’s the complacency you can’t.
Let me break down what Dell is really saying and why it matters more now than ever.
Dell isn’t talking about incremental improvement. He’s describing self-disruption, the discipline to imagine a version of your company that would destroy your current business model, then deliberately evolve into that version yourself.
This isn’t efficiency theater; it’s identity transformation. Reinvention means dismantling the very systems, incentives, and mental models that once made you successful. The processes you celebrated last year become the anchors dragging you down this year.
Here’s how to operationalize self-disruption:
Dell’s insight transcends technology strategy; it’s about evolutionary leadership. He articulates what every founder and CEO eventually learns the hard way: You can’t protect your business from disruption; you can only evolve faster than the disruptor.
It’s a call to creative destruction from within. In the age of AI and exponential change, this mindset separates companies that adapt from those that vanish.
The uncomfortable truth? The competitor that will beat you already exists. It’s either the future version of your company or someone else’s.
Choose wisely.
Bottom line: Find the revolution before it finds you.
Most executives are fighting the last war. They’re optimizing for efficiency when they should be building for adaptability; they’re defending market share when entire markets are about to disappear.
I sat across from two insurance veterans last week, good people who’ve built a solid auto and health insurance business over decades. Their client base calls them for everything: “Can you check my policy?”What’s my deductible again?” “How do I file a claim?”